WHEN MUSIC FEEDS THE SOUL AND PASSION HEALS THE HEART

Named as one of the "gifted young violinists who are among the vanguard leading the march of violin art into the 21st century..." ANAT MALKIN ALMANISo few events these days are able to take us out of ourselves - away from the threat of war on every continent, the economic crisis world-wide, the increase in crime, poverty, natural and man-made disasters - that to be treated to an evening of bliss was a rare and much appreciated occasion.

The setting was perfect!

A small town Gothic church with stained glass windows aglow with vibrant colors; cool, almost-summer-breezes filling the air with the fresh scent of blooming flowers, while one by one and couple by couple the rows were peopled with everyone there for the same reason: to be entertained, to listen to musicians playing their instruments.

The program of the evening included: Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No.32 in C minor, Op.111,
Chopin’s Sonata for Cello and Piano in G Minor, Op. 65 CT.204 and Cesar Franck’s Sonata for Violin and Piano in A Major.

I wish I could say that I am well versed in music. Unfortunately, I am not. Yet, I do - as most people, I assume – know what pleases me and what doesn’t, what excites me and what comforts me. With Cullen Bryant at the piano playing Beethoven; Julia Lighten, cellist and Christopher Oldfather, pianist, playing Chopin; and Anat Malkin Almani, violinist with Joanne Polk, pianist playing Franck; I found myself swept into swirls of images, memories awakened, first quickly, then slowly, but always in a state of consciousness that went beyond consciousness. The universal language of music with its sounds and rhythms filled not merely my ears but my soul … reaching heights seldom reached in the daily life of mundane meanderings.

Creating music as intensely lovely as love itself, we, in the audience, were suspended, taken along with the sweet and the sorrowful, the shrill and the soft sounds that both grounded us and allowed us to soar, as the pianist’s fingers climbed the keys of ivory and black and the violinist’s bow gracefully embraced its instrument, swaying all the while as we sat, separately and yet connected by the music – centuries old – but then, in the moment, new and nuanced. Barely noticing when a page was turned, we who listened became enraptured with the rapture.

If only governments and world leaders who opt to have their soldiers fight and murder in the name of religion, in the name of greed, in the name of all that is anything but holy ... if only they could be driven by the passion that allows composers to create and musicians to play, perhaps then the world that I so long for – a world of peace, harmony, and beauty - could rule without prejudice or judgement but communicate through talent in ways that feed the soul and simultaneously excite and soothe the heart. How uncluttered by trivia and disaster, evil and envy our lives would be! How thrilling and magnificent life could be!

Yet, when the final piece was performed, not even Anat Malkin Almani’s palpable halo of joy and accomplishment could follow us out into a new and better world. Whatever we heard that filled our heads and warmed our hearts would have to remain inside each of us. We could not spread its magic across the world. Perhaps if we could – in my imagined perfect world – we could change the course of history.

To all those brilliant performers, I express my personal gratitude. For that evening, at least, I was transported. I was fully alive and in the moment, purely and unabashedly enjoying myself. I dedicate this blog to the healing power of music and the need for each of us to find healing wherever, however, we are able to do so!

With best wishes for a wonder-filled week.

Yours,
Linda

PEOPLE WHO INSPIRE US

In the past, I have devoted this day, FATHER’S DAY, to honoring fathers and, of course, I do so today, as well, wishing a grand day for all fathers - my husband, not least of all - who are being celebrated.

I’m devoting this blog, however, to one written recently by Therese Borchard, a woman who never ceases to amaze and inspire me. Her daily blog, Beyond Blue, is not a personal confessional. Although she does write very courageously about her personal demons, she often cites books and blogs she has read, people she has met – all in the hope of sharing what has helped her and what she hopes will help others. She has also authored "BEYOND BLUE: Surviving Depression & Anxiety and Making the Most of Bad Genes" and "THE POCKET THERAPIST: An Emotional Survival Kit," in addition to moderating an on-line depression support group, Beyond Blue.

With her permission, I am sharing her blog of June 16, 2010: STRONG AT THE BROKEN PLACES: ON LIVING BRAVELY WITH CHRONIC ILLNESS.I trust you will find her comments and references to be as helpful and inspiring as I did. Her voice and her message is what compelled me to give it even broader exposure by re-printing it here. In fact, I am doing what she does and what she and others have been generous enough to do for me.

This particular blog resonated with me as I have suffered from chronic migraines most of my adult life. Although I consider myself to be an advocate for mental health, and my book, FOUR ROOMS, UPSTAIRS: A Psychotherapist’s Journey Into and Beyond Her Mother’s Mental Illness, is my story of early childhood trauma and the need to interrupt the cycle of family dysfunction, I have yet to write about the debilitating, life-altering struggle anyone living with chronic illness and/or pain experiences.

For those readers who do not suffer from debilitating emotional or physical pain, this is not meant to depress you but to help you to better understand the challenges faced by people whom you may care deeply about but have not been able to appreciate what their lives are like each day they live with chronic pain.

As I believe that education should always serve to free us from ignorance and to expand our understanding of what it means to be truly human, it is in that spirit that I share Therese’s blog.

From: BEYOND BLUE, posted Wednesday, June 16, 2010
I love this man. Richard Cohen. I love him. His mantra is mine. His hope I cling to. He inspires me. He tells the story of coping with his multiple sclerosis and colon cancer in his New York Times bestseller, "Blindsided: Lifting a Life Above Illness." A while back, he came out with a fascinating book, "Strong at the Broken Places: Voices of Illness, a Chorus of Hope," profiling five brave persons battling illness. Writes Richard, "These are the faces of illness in America. Do not look away. The characters may surprise you, even shatter a stereotype or two. They are people, not cases, survivors, not victims. Quite simply, they are us. they carry shared resolve, a determination to survive. To flourish."

I read parts of the book two years ago. I was especially intrigued and awed by Larry Frick's story. Diagnosed in 1984 with bipolar disorder, he spent much of the mid 80s in and out of mental hospitals. Now he's a mental health professional (that's an understatement ... he spoke at a White House conference where the first surgeon general's report on mental health was released). I will have the honor of meeting Larry in person in a few weeks, which is why I pulled out the book again. Upon reading it, I knew that I had to share it with you all. Below I excerpt from Richard's preface.

"We, the injured, are everywhere. We are fast becoming a nation of the sick. The numbers do not lie. Chronic illness has become the silent flood, flowing slowly, steadily under our doors. We tumble in slow-motion from safe ground, twisting and struggling to survive in a cold sea of all that we once were and can be no more.

Chronic conditions attack body and spirit, assaulting the quality of our lives. Some are life-threatening. All are life-altering. Ever so slowly, moment by moment, function and sensation cease. Muscles and nerves malfunction. The body's processes grow difficult. Our view of ourselves as normal human beings making our way in a neutral world is challenged as, in the eyes of others, we become our illnesses.

Chronic conditions do not resolve themselves. Unlike terminal illnesses, there is no high drama with these diseases. They are not sexy, and are little noticed or understood by an unknowing public that would prefer not to think about them. Those who are hit hard know the frustration of being marginalized, reduced, and pushed to the side by these chilly attitudes. We are handed a cocktail of condescension and a basket of doubts about our limitations. The crisis of confidence that follows can be contagious and soon affects every part of our being.

With chronic illness, every facet of a once-robust life is overtaken and redefined. From the ability to find and hold jobs to the capacity to build and sustain personal relationships, the facts of a sick person's world change dramatically. The slow slide down carries us, and we lose control.

Still, we go on. We double the effort, for what is the option? Too often, we remain silent. We are a hidden population, invisible except to ourselves and those who love us. When I wrote Blindsided, I felt alienated and isolated. I now know I am not alone. Many travel the same road, and common ground lies beneath our feet.

We have so much at stake and so much to say, but it can take years of battle with our own demons to recognize the power of what we have to offer each other. Nobody will speak for us with the authority we bring to our own stories. Where so many among us find the resolve and the inner strength to rise up and keep going is a mystery to me. That we do serves as pure inspiration...

Hemingway had it right. If the world is not the enemy, neither is it our friend. In the end, no matter who surrounds us, we travel alone. Our friends and loved ones are there, providing an infrastructure of love and support. But courage must be drawn from within. Let the world see us as we see ourselves and have the faith to permit us do it our way.”

Here’s to having faith ... and may we all feel empowered to succeed by doing it “our way!”

Yours,
Linda

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

Reading the title of this blog will no doubt take each of you to different places in your mind, conjuring up different images of where I may be leading you. And perhaps where I am taking you is not even to an image or experience that we share. I hope, though, that its implicit meaning will still resonate with you.

What's in a name has a very special meaning for me these days. You see, I recently sewed name labels onto my grandson's camp clothing and, in so doing, I not only became nostalgic but came to the rude awakening that a third generation of campers, and mothers of campers was perpetuating itself. Time was passing! Time is passing ... and with it comes all the joys and fears and anticipation of what's yet to come.

For now, though, I'm taken back to my family's 4 rooms in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, where my mother - when I was 12 and going to sleep-away camp for the first time - sat at our kitchen table, licking the tips of endless threads of white sewing cotton, placing each through what appeared to be a very tiny eye of a needle, but gracefully, gently and in what seemed as though she was doing so at the speed of lightening time, she sewed on one label and then another until all my clothes and other belongings had my name sewn on, identifying each as belonging to me and me alone.

I did the same for each of my daughters when they left for summer camps, but as I'm doing so now, it's different. It's a marking of time! This time it's a grandson who's about to experience the wonders and excitement of being away from home for the first time - hopefully without too many fears experienced by him or by his parents - as he's with campers and counselors and no parents to console or cajole him.

On the one hand, a part of me can't believe he's old enough to be going away from home, if only for a month. It seems but a moment ago that we rushed to the hospital the day he was born and experienced the inexplicable joy that grandparents around the world experience. The joy of wonder and excitement and, yes, almost disbelief because it reminds us that yet another generation is here and we are, indeed, becoming the elders.

And, so, as the ritual of sewing on labels continues, I'm now helping to do so on my daughter's kitchen table. With each pair of socks, swim suits, polos, shorts, sweat shirts, bed linens, and towels ... an ancient memory, a moment in time surfaces: I'm tucking in the corners of the sheets of my bunk bed, row boating on the camp's lake, swimming when the heat of the day became oppressive, getting my hands delightfully covered in clay or paint doing arts and crafts, playing volley ball, talking with a counselor about a girl who had hurt the feelings of one of my friends ... so many memories floating to the surface through the eye of my needle ... memories of being in a paradise of sorts. An entirely new world without parents telling me what to eat and what not to eat, and having the freedom to write home whenever I felt in the mood to do so ... as well as looking forward to receiving letters from family and friends.

One or another of us campers became homesick at times, but, fortunately, it never lasted. We'd be interrupted with yet another activity and, in the end, it was - for me, at least - a fantasy time, a taste of a new reality in which my only job was to have fun.

So, during these days of sewing camp labels and seeing my grandson's name in print hundreds of times ... with each label, I offer another hug, a silent prayer and wish for him to have a wonderful experience in this new, next chapter of his life.

If my needle with its white thread could speak, it would be saying: HERE'S TO ERIC AND TO ALL FIRST-TIME CAMPERS IN THIS SUMMER OF 2010!

And to all children who are lucky enough to go to sleep-away camps - private ones as well as those sponsored by organizations and philanthropists for those whose families (such as mine was) who can't afford to offer their children a camping experience - I extend heart-felt wishes for a wonderful summer. I hope it's one free of the rigors of the classroom and chaos of the world around us; free from the competitiveness of fighting for a parent's attention or wanting a play date with a friend who has already planned to have one with somebody else.

I hope the summer allows all children the pleasure of feeling independent, enjoying the warm and sometimes rainy days of July and August ... and for those who go away to camp, I hope they return home with fond memories, funny stories and feeling eager to return again once school ends next year!

For adults who remember summers of camping, I wonder how many of us would wish to re-live them - well, at least, some of them - grateful to our parents for having the courage to let us go and to ourselves for being brave enough to want to go.

With warm summer regards to everyone - not least of whom to parents, grandparents, and, of course, to children every where.

Yours,
Linda

TRAUMAS UNTREATED TREAT US WITH REVERBERATIONS OF ANGUISH

As oil gushes from the depths of the ocean spilling onto the beaches of the gulf, wreaking havoc with the environment, I'm reminded how repressed memories of trauma can spill out unexpectedly from the depths of our psyches, wreaking havoc with our internal environment.

Without the benefit of early treatment, the currents of our daily lives are as easily affected, leaking out in unexpected ways, overwhelming us, leaving us as paralyzed as the dazed, oil-soaked pelicans we see being swept ashore.

Since trauma of any kind is, by its very definition, "a psychological injury," it's never wise to assume that it has healing powers of its own. In fact, our minds DO have memory cells, and though we may wish to bury terrible and traumatic events, their effect upon our psyche and our soma leaks out with or without our permission. Repressed, untreated trauma and its attendant emotions affect self-esteem and impedes the development of a mature sense of self. It governs our expectations of others as well as those for ourselves.

I am not speaking here of the most horrific traumas such as violent sexual abuse or acts of political terrorism directed against groups of innocent people. In such instances, there is much warranted controversy in the psychiatric community regarding how best to treat post traumatic shock of that nature.

For anyone interested in understanding the wounds suffered by such survivors and for the finest available treatment, I refer you to one of the most respected books addressing P.T.S.D. - Dr. Judith Herman’s “TRAUMA and RECOVERY: The Aftermath of Violence. For others who may be seeking actual treatment, I urge you to do so with psychiatrists or psychotherapists specifically trained in the area of PTSD and only after having a consultation to see whether or not you feel safe in their presence and trust their method of communicating with you.

For the purpose of this blog, however, my goal is not to have anyone re-live a trauma for the sake of being re-victimized. I’m speaking primarily of the great majority of “survivors” such as myself whose early life trauma needed tending to if patterns of dysfunction were to be interrupted.

As the child of a mother who suffered from chronic bouts of major depression, most days throughout my childhood and adolescence were traumatic and were filled with the anxiety of living life on high alert.

Other reasons - in addition to mine - why and how childhood traumatization occur and continue to affect people in adulthood are many. They include the illness and/or death of a sibling, the divorce of parents which tears a family apart, and children who are made to feel as though they are pawns used by adults to settle adult scores. If those who suffer from such traumas turn to addiction to self-medicate their pain, they are further robbed of internal resources and dignity. When lucky enough to achieve abstinence, they must still learn how to re-enter the world without their drug of choice, with new found sanity, and the ability to make wise choices while resisting old familiar, habitual and destructive behaviors.

I have yet to meet anyone who has been given a free pass after being traumatized, whatever the trauma may have been. For those like myself who are high functioning “survivors,” I believe it’s impossible to move past whatever traumatized us without an early commitment to therapy – and not just in moments of crisis. What needs to be understood is that emotional energy is blocked during times of trauma. Learning how to release the energy which prevented us from developing healthy patterns of behavior while trauma enveloped us is what is needed in order to move forward. Only then is healing possible.

Additional techniques such as Yoga, T’ai Chi, Hypnosis, Bio-Feedback, and 12-Step programs are other healing tools which help to develop, a healthy, sustaining persona.

In the end, though, we are a species with the ability to speak and to communicate through the use of language. Yet, if how we communicate and how we make decisions is clouded by the leaden weight of trauma, the impact of our injury if gone unattended can leave us stuck at the very age we were when the trauma occurred, utilizing survival mechanisms that no longer help us as adults.

The first step towards healing is accepting that what was experienced was not normal. The second is recognizing the devastating affects of decisions made while using childhood defenses to serve adult patterns of behavior, even while failing us time and again. The goal, therefore, is to swallow the pill needed to be swallowed if we are to find the courage to move through and beyond the pain to resiliency and recovery.

Interrupting family dysfunction and treating emotional wounds with the same lack of guilt or embarrassment used to receive treatment for physical wounds is the door that needs to be opened.

Life will not be perfect once that door is opened, but it surely will be significantly better, mindfully wiser and definitely worthier of being lived.

For a myriad of available resources, simply go to your browser and travel the road to resources addressing TRAUMA. They will help you to come out of hiding from whatever may have traumatized you or someone you know. Knowledge gained and truths revealed will free you and make you healthier, more constructive members of society as well as better role models for those who are struggling to find solutions to life’s ever changing challenges.

Here's to proper treatment, health beyond trauma, and an end to the pollution of our seas and our souls.

Yours,
Linda